Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/82

68 How long will ye besiege the thrones of gods With lamentations? When lagged Death for all Your timorous shirking? We work not like you, Delaying and relenting, purposeless, With unenduring issues; but our deeds, Forever interchained and interlocked, Complete each other and explain themselves.&quot; &quot;Ye will a life: then why not any life? &quot; &quot;What care we for the king? He is not worth These many words; indeed, we love not speech. We care not if he live, or lose such life As men are greedy for,—filled full with hate, Sins beneath scorn, and only lit by dreams, Or one sane moment, or a useless hope,— Lasting how long?—the space between the green And fading yellow of the grass they tread.&quot; But he withdrawing not: &quot;Will any life Suffice ye for Admetus?&quot; &quot;Yea,&quot; the crones Three times repeated. &quot;We know no such names As king or queen or slave: we want but life. Begone, and vex us in our work no more.&quot; With broken blessings, inarticulate joy And tears, Alcestis thanked Hyperion, And worshipped. Then he gently: &quot;Who will die,